


we've all got our junk and my junk is you

by milkyangst, orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Chef!Lance, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Temporarily Unrequited Love, Waiter!Keith, bed sharing, uh i don't know what else to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:39:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyangst/pseuds/milkyangst, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the chef au that is jam-packed with musical theatre references, angst, pining and platonic [not] love.





	we've all got our junk and my junk is you

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first multi-chaptered fic I [daisy] will be writing the fluffy and soft bits and angst queen [milkyangst] will be writing the more angsty parts! constructive criticism welcome. 
> 
> the title is from my junk - spring awakening 
> 
> have a lovely day!

"What have I told you about being back here! Get out!"

"I just need to grab someth-"

"Out! Out! It's an important night tonight. You will not be grabbing anything"

"But"

"No buts. Leave."

 

Keith just wanted to grab his lunch from the fridge to the left. Nothing harmful, well nothing more harmful than whatever concoction he'd hurriedly put together in ten minutes this morning. Couldn't be worse than the time he accidentally made a peanut butter and ketchup sandwich but he digresses. Lance had been worried sick over today. He can deal with shoddy lunches for a week if it means he has old Lance back at the end of it. During the weeks leading up to the quarterly food critic night, Lance was insufferable. He would wake up at 3 am yelling out random improvements to dishes, wake up Keith at the crack of dawn asking him to taste desserts. Not one to complain but after the 16th crème brûlée, it loses its excitement. Lance had never cooked anything less than perfect excluding the drunk pancakes that one time but the tale is a buried secret in the walls of their first-floor apartment. 

Keith was a middleman. Lance cooked the food and Keith delivered it to the over decorated tables. A trivial and lacklustre job but worth every rude comment and slightly aggravated remark if it meant he was supporting his best friend. He owed him that much since Lance supported him all the way through high school. All the way until right now as he hands Keith's lunch over through the open kitchen ledge, with a relaxed and cheesy smile on his face, most probably fuelled by guilt for yelling at him prior. Keith didn't really mind their banter and friendship was built off of the premise of being enemies but not really. Keith was the moon, the sun, the nighttime and Lance was the sun, the clouds and the sky. Opposites yet neither would be quite as magical without the other. Lance was blue, through and through, the colour of a tide coming in, the sky on a beautiful day demanding attention, like the planets in the solar system that were laced with coldness but still laced with trust and confidence. People who said blue symbolised sadness had simply never met Lance Mcclain. 

But it was platonic. Surely. Keith could never see Lance as anything more than a friend or so he told his friends. See he's known he was gay since January 14th, 2014, when he was 14 years old and he knew he was in love with Lance since January 15th, 2014. Lance had been his first crush and it was cliché and predictable and a huge secret. He could pine and pine until his heart became evergreen and he was declared a national forest. Lance just had to be kept in the dark, he knew he wasn't homophobic but he didn't know how well he'd react to knowing his best friend had kept his effervescent loving a secret for so long. 

 

**January 15, 2014**

_"Lance, Lance stop that tickles"_

_"That's the point, billy ray"_

_"I don't look like billy ray - you have got to stop with the -" he giggled as lance struck him again in a ticklish manner._

_"Stop with the what? Uncle Jesse"_

_It was now or never in Keith's mind, they were having a wonderful time as much as he persisted he wasn't and if he told Lance his secret now he would know for sure if Lance was okay with him._

_"Lance, I'm gay"_

_"and I'm straight"_

_"You don't have a problem with it?"_

_"Why would I? Is gay Keith any different from suspected straight Keith?"_

_"Not entirely."_

_"That settles that. By the way, Keith thank you for telling me."_

_"My pleasure... I guess"_

_Back to tickles and mullet jokes except for this time Keith realised something that would change the entire scenario. He liked Lance. Like-Liked Lance. Oh god._

Back to today. Food critic night was one of the most vital times in a chefs career especially since Lance wasn't a middle-aged white man with cash in the bank and privilege in the cupboard this night was a huge deal and Keith wouldn't ruin it for him. He had years of experience of lance's worry and stress cooking. Even Movie nights had been implemented every Thursday to ensure the boy took a break once and a while.  Hunk would bring his desserts over, Pidge would bring over a board game and they'd put a film on and catch up. Thursdays, however, were sacrificed during the weeks of a food critiquing since Lance couldn't just  **relax** if his sorbet didn't bring actual tears of joy into Keith's eyes.  The crush hadn't wavered in the slightest over the past 4 years and it hadn't caused a spot of bother to anyone except himself. He could deal with it.

What he couldn't deal with was Lance's incessant complaints about his food. Keith may be a waiter but he knew good food and he knew that Lance had never created anything bland in his entire life. He implemented himself into his food -not like that. It's just Lance is a vibrant, awake person and his food reflects that in a way that is uncanny and far from coincidental. Lance may be blue but his food was red like a dominant fire, commanding attention and beautiful in a way that's almost unforgettable and full of promise and passion. His food was something that Keith craves first thing in the morning and would ask for on his last day on earth. No wonder he's head over heels for that man, he would eat sublime meals for the rest of his days on earth. Priorities. 

He knew exactly what to do during his lunch break, and that was three things; he had to find out what meat currently resided in the sandwich he made half-awake this morning, go pick up Lance's dry cleaning for him (an act of kindness NOT wooing) and call up Hunk, if anyone could get Lance out of this tiff it was the guy with the pie. 

Firstly, he discovered it was some form of turkey? in his sandwich, he couldn't be certain but it was the best guess he could muster. Secondly, he got the dry cleaning and popped it in lance's locker with a note simply notifying him that Keith was the one that had picked them up not a random person and lastly he dialled up the sacred nine numbers and hoped to the heavens that he picked up. 

"Pick up... Pick up"

"Keith?"

"Hunk! You have to come down here before I turn Lance into soup"

"Before you turn lance into... soup? What's up?"

"Critics night."

"Ah, why didn't you say? I'll be right over."

If Keith wasn't hopelessly infatuated with Lance he could definitely profess his undying love for Hunk's desserts. They were delicious and that's an understatement. Lance was beyond elated to see Hunk and it hurt to see. He could only hope to provide even a fraction of the relief Hunk did in stressful situations but he only added to it. A stray waiter in the kitchen. His forever home was within Lance but Lance already had a forever home and it wasn't Keith. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
